


Strength and Grace

by InkAndFig



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkAndFig/pseuds/InkAndFig
Summary: Reader and Geralt are sparring as Jaskier watches.  The bard determines that this may have been a bad idea.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 95





	Strength and Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my first Witcher fic; originally posted on my blog mlleecrivaine on tumblr. Enjoy... whatever this is.

If Jaskier watched much longer, the chances of his elevated blood pressure killing him were very high. He grit his teeth and tried to pull some of his blood back into his brain by sheer willpower, but as he unfortunately remembered in this moment, that’s not how it works.

Instead, he focused on the flex and bulge of your muscles as you executed strike after bone-crushing strike. Geralt blocked each of them, as he was meant to, but you were successfully driving him backwards in the clearing. You wound up, curling your elbow in front of your throat in a way that made your dirtied bicep swell in the rolled-up opening of your shirt sleeve, spinning to gain momentum and brought your sword in a slashing arc that under normal circumstances would have taken your opponent’s head off. The cry you let you as you put all of your effort into this blow sent a rush of gooseflesh down Jaskier’s body and another dizzying amount of blood ran south in him and he had to suppress a groan of awe and pleasure. Geralt blocked the attack, sidestepping with the force behind your blow. Once again you wound up, this time executing a powerful roundhouse kick that Geralt had to rush to block. Jaskier smirked in spite of himself; you nearly knocked Geralt over with that one. Jaskier wondered what it would be like to have those powerful legs around his head…

You backed off and started circling the clearing, catching your breath. You held the sword limply in one hand, placing the fist that held it on one hip and your open hand on the other, right on the most curved parts of them.

Jaskier tried to keep his eyes on the ground but he couldn’t help looking up between his eyelashes at the way your chest heaved with your breath, the way your sweat made your body positively glow under the gentle sunshine coming through the canopy above.

He cursed himself. This was not the way friends were meant to look at one another. Of course, he’d tried, the moment you’d met. He had this nasty habit of falling in love with basically everyone and everything that came even remotely within his sphere. And when you showed up, all shining eyes and beauty to make the gods jealous, he did the same thing. He flirted. He made you laugh a few times. He struck out. Now, countless months later you were still with them and he counted you amongst his closest friends. He liked to think that you counted him amongst yours as well. You still laughed at his jokes and actually appreciated his music, where Geralt still did not despite their years of acquaintance, and yet.

And yet. He could not control his reaction when he watched you at the peak of your performance. Sometimes he swore he breathed for the way your muscles moved. It didn’t matter if you were simply lifting something, shaking someone’s hand - that always made your arms look exceptionally powerful for some reason - or if you were executing acts of unthinkable violence. You were… powerful. And beautiful. And sometimes, although he was sure it would be strange to say such a thing out loud, he thought that if you were to use those muscles to crush the life from his body he would thank you with his dying breath.

“Are we boring you?”

Jaskier’s eyes shot up, not realizing quite how close you’d gotten. He could see the sweat patterns in the dirt on your face, weaving rivers on the map of your features.

“Not at all,” he said a little more softly than he anticipated. He cleared his throat. “I was just lost in thought.”

“You don’t have to stay close by if you’d rather go walking,” you offered. “I can only imagine how dull this is to watch.”

“Not the word I’d choose,” he said. Captivating. Awe-inspiring. Devastating. _Hot_.

You snorted softly, still out of breath. Looking over your shoulder at Geralt, you waited to see what the witcher was doing before you crossed your ankles and dropped to a cross-legged position across from Jaskier. Normally it wouldn’t have crossed his mind, but given his current predicament, he had to force himself not to look at the apex of your thighs under your breeches stretched taut by the arrangement of your legs.

“Are you thinking of a new song?” you asked as you let your upper body fall back onto the grass.

Jaskier glanced over bug-eyed at the graceful way your arms had landed on either side of you, bent at the elbow so your hands were up by your head. What he would give to hold your hands there as he hovered over you, kissing you deeply… his cock twitched in his trousers and he had to hold his breath for a moment to keep from making an embarrassing noise.

For all your strength, the grace with which you carried yourself also made him weak. Whenever he played at a party or a gathering or even at the right kind of bar and you ended up dancing to his music, he was for once in his life saddened by the fact that he needed to keep playing. That he couldn’t step in and dance with you to see the enchanting twists and turns of your body up close. That grace and that power played together in your body to make you truly a wonder to behold, a flower laden with dangerous potential, and he counted himself lucky that he got to behold you, even if he couldn’t worship you in the way he knew you deserved.

“You could say that,” he muttered.

“You’re being awfully cryptic today,” you mused, tilting your head to the side to look at him. Was that what you would look like, he wondered, looking down at him as he lowered his head between your legs…

“Jasker!”

Your voice startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up and noticed that Geralt had disappeared.

“Are you alright?” you asked, raising yourself up onto your elbows to stare him down.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Where did…”

“I think he went back to camp to see to Roach,” you said, cocking your head to the side. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine, I’m just… really deep in thought.”

“So deep, I expect,” you said pushing yourself all the way up and Jaskier tried not to let on how closely he followed the arc of you first sitting up again, pulling your breeches taut once more, then rising up onto your knees and finally back down onto all fours to crawl up to him, the tendons and muscles in your forearms tightening with each shift of your weight, and you reach out to pop several buttons on his doublet, “that you’ve neglected to realize how warm it is today. You’re probably overheating, Jask.”

“Probably overheating,” he echoed, watching your face as you focused entirely on his doublet. Your eyes caught the light at this angle and the nuances of colour usually hidden burst to life making you look for all the world like a precious gemstone.

“Jaskier?”

He finally realized that your eyes had met his, your hand stilled somewhere on his stomach. He blinked to show that he had heard you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, pulling your knees up so were sitting on your haunches. “You haven’t looked at me like that since I was hurt.”

Jaskier’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He didn’t think you’d remember. It was a kikimora in a swamp in Temeria nearly three months ago. You and Geralt left alone to dispatch it. Geralt came back with you in his arms, bleeding out from a stomach wound. The bard had followed you to the healer’s and he refused to leave your side. At the time he could feel the worry written on his face, but the pain he felt in his heart eclipsed his will to care to hide it. Every time you opened your eyes even for a moment, he watched your face with a longing, a desperation to simply breathe life into you and have you come back swinging like you were before. When finally you were cleared for the road - not for active hunting, but for the road at least - he swore to himself that even though the experience had awakened a painful longing in himself, you had already made your position clear upon your first meeting. And so, rather than force his affections on you, he simply tried to ignore the feeling of life you gave him every time you so much as existed in the same room as him. 

And now here he was, harder than he had ever been in his life - he would swear to it - and staring at you as though you were dying, apparently. Would that he were dying in this moment, then an end to the embarrassment was surely in sight.

“Jaskier, I’m fine,” you said soothingly.

To Jaskier’s horror you deftly unlaced your armour and slipped it over your head, leaving you in just your flimsy shirt through which, if the light caught it at the right angle, he could see the outline of your body underneath in silhouette. In a move that would clearly be the end of him, you lifted the hem of your shirt to show him your scar.

“See?”

It was an ugly thing. The kikimora had speared you straight through. The scar now flowered out like a daisy just higher than and right of your belly button.

In spite of himself, he reached out and touched the scar. To his relief, you didn’t slap his hand away. The warmth of your skin was a blessing and to his surprise it blissfully took the edge off of his painful arousal. He traced the petals of the mark and paused when you shivered.

He looked up and met your eyes. You gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you said with a nervous laugh in your voice. “I can’t actually feel anything there anymore… the nerves are dead. It kind of… tickles, I suppose when you get close to the edges.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, taking his hand back.

“It’s alright,” you said, shaking your head with that kind smile. You dropped your shirt, covering once again the flesh that Jaskier wanted oh so badly to touch. “I’m not going anywhere.”

In a move that Jaskier understands was supposed to be a joke, you raised both of your arms and gave him an impressive flex, showing off the unfair bulge of your biceps, straining at the rolled up fabric of your shirt sleeves, the way your forearms looked as if they were cut from solid stone. And Jaskier made a muffled noise that was a mix of surprise and very painful arousal.

He felt himself shrink back in embarrassment and you dropped your arms. By the look on your face you knew exactly what that sound meant.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time.

“I didn’t mean to-” you started.

“I’ll go,” Jaskier announced but he stumbled as he tried to stand, his cock hanging so heavily in his breeches he was surprised he could get up at all. He was just slow enough for you to reach out and put your arm in his way. He paused and looked at you with wide eyes.

You looked like you wanted to say something and gods, he wished you would.

“Can I?” you asked softly, reaching forward to put your hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to,” he said hurriedly and you paused your movement. “If you don’t want to,” he added quickly.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to, Jaskier,” you said in a voice slightly deeper than usual and Jaskier felt parts of himself actually start to shake.

“Then yes, gods, yes please do,” he let the words spill out but he didn’t make a move to touch you back quite yet, not sure how far you were willing to take this.

You circled your fingers painfully lightly around his forearm nearly making Jaskier choke. Your other hand came higher and touched the burning flesh of his face. In a smooth movement you lifted yourself once again, Jaskier very aware of the fact that he could see the muscles in your thighs moving you of their own accord, and you leaned in and hovered your lips over his while your eyes searched his face.

“You said,” he murmured and you started to chase him backwards. He didn’t want to touch you until he knew, and the only way to go was backwards. He ended up flat on his back on the grass and you crawled forward until you were hovering over him. Your mouth was _right there_ but still not a single part of you save for your hands touched him.

“I said what?” you prompted after he was silent for a few seconds.

“You said you weren’t interested… ‘under any circumstances,’ I think, were the words you used,” Jaskier muttered, hoping to the gods he wasn’t tripping over his words.

He found his own hands hovering somewhere around your hips and your waist, begging to touch, but not closing the distance.

You chuckled softly, coming so close he could feel the aura of your nose touching his.

“I said that when we just met Jaskier. Now I know you,” you said, staring into his eyes with your half-lidded ones, and Jaskier could see you begging in your own way to touch him. “If you’ll still have me…”

“Of course I will,” he said somewhat incredulously.

“Good,” was all you said before you finally closed the distance.

Jaskier moaned very loudly into your mouth at the final, blessed contact. You swallowed his sounds, sliding your tongue past his lips while he was preoccupied with his relief.

When he got his wits about him, he closed his hands around your waist and slid them down to the hem of your shirt to sneak under the loose fabric and touch your skin, drawing another moan from him.

You smiled against his lips and he melted up into you.

You hitched your knees a little higher as his fingers explored the contours of your ribcage, your back, your spine and the tops of your hips. When you pressed yourself down on him, there were not enough layers of clothing in the world to ease the sensation and Jaskier actively cried out and you had to let his mouth go so he could arch his back.

When he calmed himself and lowered his shoulder blades to the ground once more, he found you smiling down at him with a smug twist to your lips.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he breathed with a laugh.

“Darling, I wouldn’t dare,” you replied, kissing him once again before pulling away and watching his face while you gave a concerted roll of your hips. His eyelids fluttered and he looked for all the world like his soul had just left his body. “I’m just impressed at how well you concealed such a _significant_ problem.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Jaskier mumbled, sure that the sensation of your warmth on his throbbing cock was going to kill him at any moment.

You gave him a soft, kind smile. If this were any other situation, Jaskier would have thought of the word _loving_ , but as it was, this was a tryst of chance more than anything else.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” you murmured, kissing him softly once more. “Would you like me to solve that problem for you?”

Jaskier nearly choked.

You grinned at him and sat back on your heels once more to untie the front of his breeches.

Jaskier regained enough of his faculties to sit up and pull your chemise up and over your head. He couldn’t help himself from indulging his keenest curiosities first and he skimmed the strong outlines of your arms with his fingertips. You shivered again and he looked up to find you blushing.

“Sorry,” you said again, “this time it feels good.”

“What else might feel good?” he asked, letting his fingers ghost to your chest where he laid his palms over the heaviest parts of your breasts. You rewarded him with a gasp.

“That, maybe,” you said with a grin.

You tugged the strings loose on his breeches and turned your attention to his doublet.

He helped you get the layer off and obediently held his arms over his head while you pulled the undershirt off, exposing his chest.

He blushed a little, knowing he wasn’t quite as well defined as you and especially not as defined as Geralt, but the way you drank in his body, stopping everything else you were doing to gently set his shirt on the ground as your eyes roamed over him, sent a wave of confidence through him and he returned his hands to your chest making you gasp.

You got back up on your knees and reached behind you to help get his trousers down to a place where he could kick them off.

Jaskier almost cried when you ghosted your fingertips over his length. He screwed his eyes shut at the electric sensation and grabbed you around the waist to steady himself.

“You can’t wait can you?” you asked.

He shook his head vehemently, letting out a pained sound.

“Then help me,” you murmured, lifting your hips again.

Jaskier took a deep breath and opened his eyes, before untying the strings of your own breeches. You pushed them off as quickly as you could and you looked down into his eyes as you let him line himself up with your entrance.

You lifted a hand to his face and stroked his cheekbone with your thumb once before lowering yourself onto him.

“Ohhh _fuck_ ,” Jaskier swore, leaning forward and placing his head on your sternum.

You took all of him in one slow stroke. Your fingers wound through his hair, your nails dragging lightly on his scalp and he could have sworn he was halfway into the grave from how good everything about you felt.

“Gods, my love, please…” he begged, feeling an all new kind of need for you now that he was finally inside of you.

For your part, your own desire for this made the feeling of his flesh inside you flash like water in a hot pan, overwhelming your senses and stealing the breath from your lungs.

You obliged by lifting yourself nearly off of him and sinking back down, starting a slow but steady rhythm. Your own breath shuddered as you moved, and you reached out to hold his shoulders to steady yourself as you struggled to maintain the strength in your legs.

Jaskier started to feel his very soul shake because you were going too slowly and he was about to go blind from need. He bucked up into you once and planted his hands behind him on the grass so he could thrust up into you.

You cried out as he hit just the right spot and your hands wound back into his hair and you started to ride him in earnest, hard and fast.

“Oh _gods_ ,” Jaskier moaned letting his head fall back. He wanted desperately to watch you, but he was so damn close… “I’m not going to last…”

“I didn’t expect you to, darling,” you murmured, pulling his head back up to look at you. “It’s alright. Come, my darling, you’re almost there.”

“But you-”

“Don’t worry about me,” you crooned. “Come, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s vision whited out and he, for the first time in his memory, screamed as he came, one long, guttural note. If he could still think, he’d be ashamed for not having your name prepared on his lips for the moment of release. You weren’t expecting his voice to take such a deep, throaty turn and it made you clench around him, only milking his orgasm from him more thoroughly.

Finally the heaving of his chest seemed to abate and you let yourself slow down, your thighs starting to burn.

Jaskier ceased all movement for a moment and luxuriated in the afterglow of his pleasure.

You let your fingers trail over the contours of his face, down his throat, over his collarbone, and into the thicket of hair on his chest, letting the strands tickle your fingers. When you looked back up to his face, you watched his eyes refocus on you.

He wound a hand around your back and flipped you over so you were on the grass under him now. He started thrusting gently, somehow still hard enough.

“Jaskier…” you started to protest but the needy whine in your voice betrayed you.

“I’ve got something left in me,” Jaskier said with a playful smile. “Let me repay you.”

He reached between you and pressed his thumb to your clit, circling sharply. You gasped and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Jaskier turned his head and pressed reverent kisses to your arm as he continued thrusting into you. The fatigue was starting to show in the off-kilter rhythm of his hips.

“You,” he kissed your bicep, “are,” he kissed higher up, toward your elbow, “devastating.”

You grinned and captured his lips as he leaned down to kiss you, his hips suddenly speeding up and the pressure of his thumb increased until you were moaning with each thrust.

“Jaskier,” you whined between moans, “I’m almost there.”

“Just a little bit more, my darling, please,” he begged, almost as if his own pleasure were on the line. If he were to go by the sweet coiling sensation in his stomach, it might be. “Come for me, my darling.”

He gave you a few more hard, deep thrusts and you came unravelled around him, crying out his name in a high, broken voice. He thrust through your shuddering a few more times before a second orgasm hit him and he sobbed as it struck, dropping his forehead to your chest. He had nothing left to spill for you, but the feeling was still divine. He recovered first and kissed every part of you he could reach while you rode out the waves of your pleasure under him.

When your body finally came down you opened your eyes. Jaskier watched your eyes as you skimmed his face. He hoped that his staring would grant him this memory etched into his mind forever. With the final twitches of your body fading against his, he was certain that nothing would ever come quite this close to perfection again.

You reached up and cupped his face in one palm and he leaned into the touch, kissing your wrist before pulling out of you and rolling so he lay propped on his side next to you. You rolled sideways too, so you could look at each other.

Jaskier brought a hand up and skimmed the contours of your arm with his palm, committing the hard yet soft feel of them to memory.

“Devastating, hmm?” you asked after a moment. You gave him a sly smile.

“Awe-inspiring. Divine. Utterly-” he murmured before shaking his head. “Sorry.”

You cocked your head.

“Why are you sorry?”

Jaskier smiled and looked at his hand on your arm instead of at your face. He felt his ears grow warm.

“I just…” his mouth twitched as he searched for the right words. “You didn’t have to do this. It was brilliant, by the way, I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but you weren’t interested in me to begin with, and I don’t want to make it weird, I mean, we still have to travel together-”

“Jaskier.”

“-and I still want to be your friend after this, not to say I don’t think we could be, but I’d really like to keep the nice thing we had going instead of it getting, you know, weird-”

“Jaskier!” you said with more force.

He quieted and waited, uneasy for you to continue.

“Like I said, I turned you down before I knew you. I didn’t want to just jump into bed with someone about whom the only thing I knew was that you had a reputation of flitting from one fancy to the next,” you said, reaching out to touch his chest with your fingertips. “I’ve gotten to know you so much better since then. And if this is a one-time thing, then I think I can live with that now. I hope it’s not a one-time thing, not by any stretch, but if that’s all you want it to be, I’ll respect that.”

“I don’t want it to be one-time at all,” Jaskier blurted, gripping your arm in the hopes that he can convey the meaning through touch alone. “Darling, I’ve never met anyone like you and if you were to choose me over everyone else in this world, I would count myself the luckiest man in the realm. And I would serve you until my last breath.”

You blinked at him for a moment before a wide smile graced your face.

“Well in that case, my darling bard,” you said, pushing forward to roll him onto his back again, you straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss him. He sighed into you and took your arms in his hands, caressing the flesh with the pads of his thumbs. “You’ll be happy to hear that I chose you a long time ago.”


End file.
